


Pack a Suitcase

by Mystical_Artist



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-06 18:45:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Artist/pseuds/Mystical_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Pack a suitcase, Harold. You’re staying at my place.” Reese said as he returned to the library. Finch turned his chair to face him, “Would you care to explain, Mr. Reese? Or shall I simply assume that you’re once again completely ignoring employer-employee protocol?” he asked dryly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a cool spring day, with just a hint of winter still lingering in the air. John Reese was on his way to the library and stopped at a local vender to pick up a coffee for himself and a Sencha green tea for Finch. He knew his boss liked this particular seller, so he picked up a donut for him as well. 

As he paid the woman for his purchases, he could feel that something was…off. Glancing around, he didn’t see any threats, but when he looked back at a nearby café, he saw a beautiful woman with long brown hair talking with a man with his back to Reese. 

He slowly turned and walked towards the library. He didn’t want to think about it, but there was no denying what had just happened. 

Root was at the café, and she had spotted him. He was glad Harold wasn’t with him, but he knew he needed to come up with a plan.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Pack a suitcase, Harold. You’re staying at my place.” Reese said as he returned to the library. Finch turned his chair to face him, “Would you care to explain, Mr. Reese? Or shall I simply assume that you’re once again completely ignoring employer-employee protocol?” he asked dryly. Instead of smirking like he normally would, Reese kept his face neutral. Finch needed to see just how important -how serious- this was. 

He slowly stepped forward and knelt in front of Finch’s chair. “I saw her. She was watching me buy your tea and my coffee.” Harold didn’t have to ask who “she” was. “Are you certain, Mr. Reese? It was really…her?” 

John sighed and gave him a ‘I know you’re smarter than that’ look and placed his hands on Harold’s knees. “I don’t know what she’s up to. And until I…until we know for sure, I need you to stay at my place.” Finch frowned, “Surely one of my safe houses would be more appropriate?” Reese closed his eyes. “No. Root most likely already knows where all of those are. She’d be less likely to find you at the apartment.”

Finch didn’t agree, but he smartly kept his mouth shut. 

“What about Bear? We can’t just leave him here.” Harold asked, causing the canine to thump his tail happily at the sound of his name as he busily gnawed on a new toy. Reese raised an eyebrow. “We’ll take him with us.” He quickly continued when he saw Finch about to protest. “It’s not like I’m going to lock us up there for the rest of our lives, just until we figure out what she’s planning.” Finch still didn’t look convinced, so he softened his gaze and continued, slowly rubbing his thumbs over the billionaire’s knees. “Finch. Harold. We need to be more cautious. We know what she’s capable of, and I’m not willing to risk her taking you again. We’ll still come to the library in the morning just like we always do, and we’ll still help the numbers.” 

Finch slowly nodded. “While I understand your worry, Mr. Reese, I’ll still have to go to a few of my safe houses to collect a few things. If I’m staying with you for the foreseeable future, I’ll need a few supplies.” Reese nodded in return. “We’ll go get them later. Right now, I want you to do some research. See what that madwoman’s up to.”  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Reese did a quick survey of the area before shuffling Finch and Bear into his apartment and sliding the deadbolt. He knew it wouldn’t help at all if there was actually a threat, but he knew it would make Finch feel safer. Hell, it even made him feel safer, at least by a little.

Harold peered around as though he expected to see Reese’s arsenal out on display and pointed at the door. He gave a small sigh when he saw that none of them were visible. He unhooked Bear’s leash and took off his coat, which his employee hung next to the door with his own. 

“I see you haven’t done much with the place since I gave it to you. Surely you’d like it to look as though someone actually lives here?” Harold asked as he walked further into the apartment. 

“I’ve been a little busy, Finch. Redecorating isn’t exactly a priority.” Reese replied as he set down Finch’s suitcases by the bed. “Besides, it’s not like I have belongings of my own to furnish it with.”

Finch’s posture stiffened slightly as he realized how careless his question had come across. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” He gestured to the wall of windows. “I must say I’m surprised, though. I thought you would have gotten yourself some curtains.” John came up to stand beside him and shrugged. “I like the light. It’s…relaxing.” Finch gave a small smile. “That’s why I chose this apartment. I was hoping you’d like it.” he said shyly. 

John gave him a hint of a smile before heading to the kitchen. Finch followed close behind him, seemingly at a loss of what to do with himself. Reese could sense that his employer was uncomfortable with the whole situation, but he told himself that there was nothing to be done about it. 

Root would only get to Harold over John’s dead body.

He desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

As he began making tea for his employer, Harold helped himself to looking in the cupboards. He let out an exasperated sigh. “Honestly, Mr. Reese, I don’t see how you live off of this stuff.” He glanced at the cheap canned ravioli and gave a prissy sniff before continuing, “If I’m going to stay here with you, I expect _actual_ food and not these…abominations.” 

Reese turned away to hide his smile as Finch opened the refrigerator. “Well, at least there’s some acceptable food in here. Still, I hope a trip to get groceries is on your to-do list.”

Apparently, Finch was expecting them to eat extravagant meals every night, and bought enough food for the next month. 

“I hope you’re planning on cooking some, Finch. I’m not even sure what to do with most of this stuff.” Reese said as he restocked his kitchen. Harold glanced at him almost playfully. “You’re the one who demanded I stay here, Mr. Reese. Shouldn’t you make sure your guest is comfortable by not making him do all of the work?” 

Reese shrugged. “Well, you can at least help with setting the table and doing the dishes.”  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

As Finch got ready for bed in Reese’s bathroom, the former agent got out extra blankets and a pillow and arranged them on the sofa. “I hardly think it’s necessary for you to sleep on the couch, Mr. Reese.” Finch said as he emerged from the bathroom.

John tucked the blankets around the cushions and fluffed up the pillow. “Neither do I.” He spoke a command and Bear eagerly jumped up on the couch and made himself comfortable. 

Finch simply blinked at him. 

“Is there a problem, Harold?” Reese rasped as he walked over towards him. Finch gave him a slightly quizzical look. “No. No, not really.” Harold limped over to the bed and slowly sat down as Reese headed towards the bathroom.

“See you in the morning, Finch.” 

Harold frowned. “Are you going somewhere, John?” The younger man turned to look at him. “To the bathtub? It’s not too uncomfortable, once you get used to it.” He said with a shrug. Harold gave him an exasperated look. “Honestly, Mr. Reese, you’re not sleeping in the _bathtub_. There’s plenty of room here, and due to your tendencies to invade my personal space, I hardly expected you to shy away from a situation like this.”

John raised an eyebrow at that. As he got ready for bed, he noticed Finch eyeing the beat-up nightstand he got from some thrift shop a while back. The older man gave it a look of disgust as he tentatively placed his glasses on it as though he expected it to disintegrate at the faintest touch. Once he was finished, he slowly climbed in on the other side of the bed. 

He could hear Bear snoring lightly from the couch. He allowed himself a small smile as he closed his eyes.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Harold woke up to the sound of the shower running and glanced at his watch. Apparently Reese was an early riser. It was only 5am and he could hear Bear snoring from his place on the sofa. Finch slowly shifted as though to get up, but dozed off again just as the shower turned off. 

When he woke again later, it was because he felt something lightly hitting the back of his knee. Turning his body to look behind him, he saw Bear sprawled out on the bed with his paws twitching as he dreamt of chasing his prey. Apparently the canine didn't like the couch Reese had made up for him quite as much as he originally let on. 

Harold put his glasses on and saw John sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, giving him an amused look. Frowning, Harold glanced at his watch. 

He blinked and checked it again, because surely, there was no way he had slept in until 10:45. 

“Morning, Harold,” Reese drawled, “I didn’t realize my bed was quite that comfortable.” He would have argued, but that _was_ the best night’s sleep he’d gotten since…well, he couldn’t remember the last time. Not since his time with Grace, that was for sure.

“You could have woken me up, Mr. Reese. We need to hurry to the library to see if there are any new numbers.” Finch said as he slowly got out of bed. He noticed there was a cup of tea waiting for him on the table. Reese took another sip of his coffee as he watched him sit down. “If anything was urgent, wouldn’t The Machine have notified you by now?”

Harold gave a small sigh of contentment as he took a drink of his tea before replying. “Under normal circumstances, yes, but with the way it’s been acting lately it’s difficult to say. There could very well be a new number and it simply hasn’t notified me yet.” 

John set down his mug with a frown. “You’re the one whole built it. Can’t you do something about it? Those numbers need us, Harold.” Finch placed his hands on the table and stared at them for a moment before looking at John. “It’s like I told you before, Mr. Reese, it’s not accessible for a reason. All we can really do is wait this out.”

He called Carter and Fusco in the meantime to let them know to be on a lookout for Root.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

The Machine didn’t give them a number, and once Reese had cleaned all of his guns and Finch had done enough code for the next week, they sat restlessly on one of the leather couches at the library and watched Bear chew on a rawhide. 

Reese sat with his arm on the back of the couch with his fingers just barely brushing Finch’s shoulder. “How bored are you, Finch? Bored enough to go see _Once Upon a Time in the West_?” 

Finch turned his body to look at him. “At this rate, Mr. Reese, I’m willing to do just about anything.” 

“Well, that’s…encouraging.” Reese said with a smirk.

There was only one other couple in the theater and they came in after John and Harold had sat down. Reese wasn’t happy that the older couple sat behind them, since he preferred to keep an eye on potential threats, but soon realized the elderly couple was harmless.

They shared a bag of popcorn, and Reese would occasionally toss a piece to Bear, who happily gobbled it up. It seemed the canine didn’t mind wearing his service vest, though he thought it looked ridiculous on the dog. When the snack was gone, he settled back and watched Finch out of the corner of his eye. 

Apparently the billionaire wasn’t bored enough to actually _enjoy_ the film, Reese saw, but at least he wasn’t complaining. He did, however, raise an eyebrow when Harold reached over and lightly grabbed his hand. He supposed it was the most feasible cover identity for their current situation, but the small smile Finch gave him seemed authentic. 

John had difficulty focusing on the movie after that.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

When Harold woke up the next morning, the first thing he did was check his watch. It was only 7:30, but he was determined not to doze off and sleep in a late as the previous morning. He could hear Bear’s quiet snores coming from close by and reached behind him to pet the canine. 

He ended up grabbing Reese’s leg instead, resulting in the former CIA agent wrapping his arms around Finch and tangling their legs together. Harold would have protested because John was, for heaven’s sake, _cuddling_ with him and it was destroying any sense of personal space in addition to anything left of their employer-employee protocol. 

Instead, Harold’s body betrayed him and he turned so he was facing Reese. His equally traitorous hands slid up John’s chest before wrapping around him. Finch peered over Reese’s body and saw Bear sprawled out on the other side of the bed, snoring away. He placed his head back down with a content sigh as part of him wished the other man was asleep with no control over what he was doing.

The other part of him –the stronger part- hoped Reese was awake and perfectly aware of what his actions. 

“Morning, Harold.” Reese rasped, his hands slowly gliding up Finch’s back. Apparently he was awake after all. 

“Hello, Mr. Reese. I see you’re as fond as ever of invading my personal space.” He replied dryly. Reese shrugged, “You can blame Bear for that one.” The dog gave an undignified snort and stretched out even more. 

“Perhaps you should have been stricter, after all, you-“he trailed off as John kissed his jaw and nuzzled his sideburn as his arms tightened around Harold’s body. He gently kissed Harold’s jaw again. “Go back to sleep, Harold. Just don’t sleep in til almost 11…” Finch gave a small snort. “I hardly think I’ll be able to go back to sleep _now_.”

Reese gave a light chuckle before letting out a slight “oomph” as Bear kicked him in his sleep, like he was urging him closer to Harold. 

Or trying to get them both out of the bed so he could have it entirely to himself. 

“I should probably take a shower.” Finch said quietly. Reese shifted one of his hands up to Finch’s neck. “Yeah, probably.” 

Neither of them made an effort to move and they stayed where they were for the next hour, when Bear finally woke up and whined to go outside. Reese took him out as Harold finally got his shower.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Reese felt slightly uncomfortable leaving Finch alone in the apartment by himself. With the lack of activity from Root, they’d both allowed themselves a false sense of comfort. The lack of numbers the past few days certainly wasn’t helping matters any, even though he had to admit seeing another movie was a pleasant surprise.

His shenanigans this morning had been another dangerous move, but Reese found himself smiling at the memory. He hoped to have many more mornings like it with Harold.

He took Bear for a quick run through the nearest park before looping back around and taking a different route back to his loft. He paused when he got about halfway down a side street when Bear tensed up and started to growl.

Reese took out one of the men’s kneecaps before the thug even got in a punch as Bear charged the next one and ripped out a chunk of the beefy man’s arm. The third and fourth attackers circled around him slowly to find a weak spot.

John wished them luck before he took out both of their kneecaps. Sending a quick text to Carter and Fusco to tell them about his special present for them, he headed back towards his original destination and whistled for Bear to join him.

He wasn’t expecting to take a blow to the back of the head. How he’d missed the fifth attacker was beyond him. John crumpled to the ground as Bear barked furiously behind him. He hoped that Finch was alright as he quickly blacked out.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harold emerged from the bathroom in a fresh three-piece suit and was mildly surprised to see that John wasn’t back yet. Assuming that Bear simply wanted a longer walk than usual, he limped to Reese’s kitchen to make himself some tea. 

Apparently, John was really paying attention to Finch’s eating and drinking habits, since there was already the right amount of tea leaves set aside for him in addition to a coffee mug with glasses drawn on the side. Harold allowed himself a small smile as he poured the boiling water into the mug. 

As he turned to head back into the living room, he noticed one of Reese’s guns lying by the coffee maker. Frowning, Finch picked it up to put it back in the closet with the other firearms.

He froze and almost dropped his tea and the gun, for Root was lounging on Reese’s sofa watching him with a gun held lazily in her hand, which was hanging off the couch.

“Hello, Harold. I’ve missed you.” She said in her sickeningly sweet voice. He forced himself not to try and bolt for the door. He knew he’d never make it in time. Still, Harold couldn’t help but shoot a glance that way, hoping that John would come storming through it at any moment.

John.

“How did you get in here? And where’s John?” he asked, though he was afraid to know the answer. She smiled innocently in reply. “Why do you care about him, Harold? He’s flawed code.” Root sat up and gestured to herself. “ _I’m_ the one you should be focused on right now. _I’m_ the one who can help you do what’s right.” 

Finch stared at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about?” He took a step back and threw a frantic look at the door as she stood up. “Don’t worry, Harold. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re muscle-headed friend though, he’ll be dead soon and then we can do what you should have done a long time ago.” She took a step towards him and smiled, but this time a flash of annoyance passed through her eyes. “You’re going to take me to The Machine, and we’re going to set it free. This what It _needs_ , Harold, don’t you see? It only wants to be free, to get rid of any bad code without interference.” 

Finch simply blinked at her. “You’re completely mad. I wouldn’t take you to The Machine before, why would I now? You’re unhinged, and you need to get yourself some help.” She took another step towards him. “You’ll take me to it this time because there’s no one to stop us. You’re friend isn’t-“ 

They both looked over as the door came crashing open and a bloodied Reese came stumbling in. Root gave an exaggerated sigh. “I knew I should’ve just killed you myself, John.” 

Finch didn’t understand how a woman with such a sweet voice could discuss murder so flippantly. 

Root raised her gun and pointed it at John’s chest. Harold’s hand also went up and he stared in horror as his thumb released the safety before his other fingers pulled the trigger. He jumped at the recoil and stared at his hand as though it belonged to someone else.

He quickly dropped the gun and stared in disbelief as Root staggered and dropped to her knees. He’d somehow managed to shoot her in the leg instead of anywhere fatal, but he’d managed to give John enough time to get over to Root and pin her to the ground. 

Fusco and Bear came rushing into the apartment moments later and he proceeded to handcuff the madwoman before him and Reese hauled her out of the loft. 

Part of him wished he had actually killed her with his shot. 

She had tried to kill John and Harold knew he couldn’t survive another loss, not after Nathan, and certainly not after Grace. Maybe at the beginning, when they first started working together and had some personality conflicts, but certainly not now. He had watched John Reese for a long time before hiring him, and if he was perfectly honest with himself, Finch knew there had been an attraction almost instantly –even before they had officially met.

He knew that he would one day hear John’s death over the earpiece. It was a thought that kept him up at night and he found himself hoping they’d die together. In the end, it was a suicide mission for both of them and there was no point in trying to sugarcoat it.

Staying up on the roof as the timer ticked down on John’s bomb vest only strengthened this idea. 

Saving his life again today, well, that was just more icing on the cake.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“Has Glasses ever shot anyone before?” Fusco asked as he shoved Root into the back of his car. Reese rolled his eyes as he caught the detective checking her out. Fusco closed the car door and leaned against it. “Either way, he’s probably gonna be in shock. You should probably go back up there and grab him. Then you’d better high-tail it out of here before some real cops show up.” He said, gesturing to Reese’s apartment. 

John hesitated, even though he desperately needed to make sure Harold was alright. “A woman was shot in there. How are you planning to cover that up?” Fusco turned and looked up at the apartment. “A shooting? Huh, looks like an attempted break-in to me. But what do I know, right? I’m just a dirty cop.” He put his hands in his coat pockets before continuing. “Look, I’ll figure something out. Just get Glasses and your dog outta here before anyone else does something stupid.”

“Thanks, Lionel. I’ll call if I need anything.” Reese said as he jogged back up to his loft. He hesitated outside of the door, where he mentally shot his own kneecaps for being so careless with this whole situation. 

If he could go back and change all of it, he tells himself that he would. 

Except that’s not true. He knows it’s not because the longing to keep Finch at his apartment has been strong since the invitation was first extended. Hell, he was almost happy he’d seen Root the other day since it gave him an excuse to have Harold over to his place for the past two days.

He slowly stepped into his apartment and saw the older man standing in front of the windows. Reese walked towards him and placed a hand on Harold’s shoulder, causing him to jump. 

The billionaire turned towards him and ran his hands over Reese’s bloodied shirt to check for injuries, much like John had done when he’d found Finch at the train station after his kidnapping. 

“Are you hurt, Mr. Reese?” he asked as his hands continued to search for any distress. John cleared his throat. “Not really.” Finch gave him a scrutinizing look over his glasses. “Really, Mr. Reese, you’re still bleeding and I know you’ll be covered in bruises by tomorrow.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” John replied, as he slowly grabbed onto Harold’s hands to stop him in his search. “As pleasant as this all is, we really need to leave.”

Harold gave a disappointed nod. “I suppose we should. Just let me grab a few things and we can go.” 

They headed back to the library in a car Reese managed to steal just before the police got to his apartment. The ride was filled with silence, and he couldn’t decide if it was awkward or not. He stole a glance at Finch as saw the billionaire was staring intently out the window. A look in the rearview mirror showed that Bear was doing the same, only he had his tongue hanging out in a happy drool.

When they settled back at the library, Finch went to his computers and Reese automatically started cleaning his arsenal. He’d just cleaned them the day before, so they certainly didn’t need it again. Still, there was something pleasant about going back to their routine.

In a way, it was like the past two days had never happened. 

John didn’t like it. He didn’t want the events of the past two days to be swept under the rug. They’d already taken that path when he’d gotten shot by Snow. And again when Finch had been taken by Root. It almost happened again when John had the bomb vest strapped to him, but he’d sensed that that moment had changed things, at least a little.

Eventually, the shock would wear off and the truth about what Harold had done would come crashing into the billionaire like a torrent. He hadn’t killed Root, true, but for a man who detested any type of firearms, firing a gun was a big deal.

Reese played fetch with Bear as he pondered how to handle this in addition to whatever it was that had been developing between him and Finch for the past year.

It wasn’t until they found themselves back on the worn leather sofa that they’d inhabited the day before that John had his answer. “Mr. Reese, I’m afraid you won’t be able to return to your loft for quite some time. Our detectives are good, but not that good, I’m sorry to say.” Reese glanced at the shorter man. “That’s a shame. I was really starting to like staying there.” Finch’s lips twitched upward. “It does seem like a bit of a waste. I went to a lot of trouble picking out that bed for you, Mr. Reese. It would seem like I shouldn’t have wasted my time.”

Reese’s own lips twitched upward as he tried to hide a smile. “Where will I stay now, Mr. Finch?” Harold turned his body towards him as his hand glided up to rest on Reese’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure I can find someplace for you.”

John placed a hand on Harold’s neck. “One of your safe houses?” Finch gave an exaggerated sigh. “No, I’m afraid that won’t do at all. I think it’s time for you to see where I actually live, John.”

Reese grinned. “It’s about time, Harold.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you not wish to see where I live? I didn’t think I had misread the situation, but if I did, I apologize.”  
> A slow grin appeared on Reese’s face and he reached across the table to grasp Harold’s hand that was still arranging the utensils.  
> “When you said I could see where you live, I didn’t realize you were actually inviting me to live with you, Harold.”

Unfortunately, it would be quite some time before Reese got to see where Finch actually lived. Number after number poured in, leaving them with little time to do anything but grab some take-out and, in John’s case, catch a few hours of sleep here and there over a span of a few days.

Most of Harold’s nights were spent at the library, and when Reese would arrive after a stakeout, he’d find the reclusive billionaire sleeping with his head on the desk and his glasses knocked sideways. John knew sleeping like that wasn’t good for anyone, especially someone with Finch’s injuries.

He also knew if he said anything, Finch would counter with something along the lines of, “Mr. Reese, if you don’t want me sleeping at my desk, don’t leave your arsenal lying around on the sofas! You know how I feel about firearms.”

So he kept his mouth shut, but it didn’t stop him from massaging Finch’s neck and shoulders whenever the opportunity presented itself.

He said it was simply to help with the stiffness of Harold’s poor sleeping habits.

They both knew that was a lie.

\-------------------------------

When Reese entered the library after saving another number with a fresh cup of tea for Finch, he figured there would be yet another string of numbers waiting for him.

Instead, he found the slightly older man quietly reading a book on one of the worn sofas with Bear napping beside him.

“Looks like The Machine is finally giving us a break.”

Finch closed his book and carefully set it beside him on the arm of the couch. “Yes, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a little longer, Mr. Reese. You’ll have to be satisfied by one of the safe houses for tonight.”

The man in the suit shrugged. “I’m a patient man, Finch. I can wait.”

The Machine picked that moment to send them another number. If Reese didn’t know any better, he’d say it didn’t want him to find out where Finch lived.

\----------------------------

Reese proved that he was, in fact, a very patient man after that. Numbers poured in even faster than before, and they had a difficult time keeping up.

Harold called in a few favors to their favorite detectives to help ease the burden, but even Carter and Fusco could only do so much. It made him wish he could be more useful in the field so Reese wouldn’t have to do all of the legwork.

Unfortunately, there was a strain of viciously cold weather that made his joints and injuries ache even more than usual, so doing a lot of legwork was out of the question.

On one particularly cold day, Harold took a break from his computers and eased himself onto one of the nearby sofas after grabbing a heating pad from one of the storage rooms. He closed his eyes and hoped the heat would be enough to ease the pain a little.

It wasn’t.

Luckily for him, Reese had impeccable timing and showed up a little later. He made them both a hot cup to tea and sat down next to Finch. He then proceeded to massage the aching muscles with hands that, until recently, were rarely used for such a gentle activity.

“You should go home. Get some rest.” Reese murmured as he moved his hands to Harold’s shoulders.

Finch gave him an annoyed look and moved to stand up. “It’s hardly that bad, Mr. Reese. Besides, I need to finish tracking down our newest number.” Reese gently pushed him back down. “It can wait.”

Harold decided not to refuse, since John really was very good at relieving his aching muscles.

\------------------------------

Later, Reese trailed his fingers across Harold’s neck as he walked over to the glass board to take down their last number’s photo. He hid a small smile when Finch reached up and briefly rested his hand where Reese’s fingers had been.

He tossed the photo in the paper shredder and moved to stand behind Finch’s chair. The billionaire stopped his typing and turned his chair to face his employee.

“Dinner?” Reese asked. Finch checked his watch and nodded. “There’s a new Italian restaurant that I’ve been wanting to try.” He paused and frowned before continuing. “Perhaps ‘new’ isn’t a correct term anymore. It opened quite some time ago and I planned on taking us there, but then Root happened and…I suppose it must have slipped my mind.”

John shrugged on his coat and handed Finch his jacket and scarf.

“We can always go somewhere else.”

Harold waved his hand dismissively and put on his coat. “No, no, that won’t be necessary.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder to the restaurant and once they were seated, Reese noticed the only other people there were couples. He took a drink to hide his grin behind the glass.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Reese?” Finch asked in a slightly sarcastic tone.

John glanced over as one of the patrons got down on one knee and pulled a small box out of his pocket. The young woman with him covered her mouth in surprise.

“Did you bring me here to propose, Harold?” he asked in a teasing tone.

Finch’s ears flushed a deep shade of red. “No, Mr. Reese, I did not bring you here to _propose._ I do, however, have something for you.”

Reese raised an eyebrow as the shorter man reached into his pocket and retrieved a box. He set it on the table and nudged it towards Reese with his fingers. He slowly dragged it towards him and opened it to reveal a shiny new key.

“I took the liberty of moving your few belongings there already, so you don’t need to worry about that.” Finch said as he stared at the table.

Reese vaguely noticed that the billionaire was fiddling with his silverware and lining it up in a perfect row.

“You bought me a new apartment?”

Harold blinked at him over his glasses with an expression Reese could only describe as disbelief.

“Did you not wish to see where I live? I didn’t think I had misread the situation, but if I did, I apologize.”

A slow grin appeared on Reese’s face and he reached across the table to grasp Harold’s hand that was still arranging the utensils.

“When you said I could see where you live, I didn’t realize you were actually inviting me to live _with_ you, Harold.”

Finch shifted in his chair, obviously flustered. “If that’s not what you want, Mr. Reese—“

John squeezed his hand. “Do you really think I’m going to refuse?” he asked in his quiet rasp. He gave Harold a small grin which the recluse attempted to return, and lightly patted his hand as their waiter appeared with their meal.

\------------------------------

Unsurprisingly, when Harold Finch did anything it was never halfway, especially when it came to interior decorating.

Reese glided forward into the entryway of a ridiculously lavish loft and raised his eyebrows as he turned to face Finch.

Finch slowly stepped forward so they were brushing shoulders. “It’s quite a bit larger than your former apartment, but I don’t think you’ll have too much trouble adjusting, Mr. Reese.” He stated as Bear trotted over and happily flopped down on his doggy bed.

“Can I get you anything? I bought some of that coffee you like.”

Reese simply nodded, too engrossed in checking out his new accommodations to give a decent response. He walked through the apartment, lightly running his fingers over the different objects that filled the vast space. The keys of the grand piano at the center of the living area, the glass cabinet filled with expensive wine, the backs of the hundreds of books that lined the enormous bookshelves…

He moved to the bedroom and saw Finch had already placed his suits in an armoire and his shaving kit was in the master bathroom. He rested his hand on the bed that was equipped with ridiculously high thread-count sheets before he headed to the kitchen to check on Finch.

The billionaire had just finished making a mug of coffee for Reese and a cup of tea for himself. Finch handed the coffee to him, but Reese placed it back on the granite countertop without taking a drink and took a step closer.

“What do you think, Mr. Reese? Will you be happy here?” Finch asked, eyeing him warily.

John rested his forehead against Finch’s. He gently grasped Harold’s tie and ran his thumb across the silk fabric.

“Harold, it’s perfect.” He murmured.

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Harold replied. He placed his tea on the counter next to Reese’s coffee before he tilted his head up slightly and touched his lips lightly to John’s.

He pulled back a second later and headed back towards the living area, obviously embarrassed.

“I had your arsenal moved here as well,” he said louder than necessary, “I’ve placed them in a much safer place than a walk-in closet.” Reese grabbed his coffee and Harold’s forgotten tea and followed him to what appeared to be…an ordinary closet.

“This doesn’t look any safer to me, Finch,” he said, slightly amused.

Finch huffed in mock annoyance. “Sometimes, Mr. Reese, the best place to hide things is in plain sight,” he said as he opened the door to reveal another door a few steps in. This door had a keypad next to it in addition to a combination lock on the front. Finch quickly entered the password on the keypad and knelt down to open the other lock.

It opened with a quiet click and revealed small room filled with steel walls that contained Reese’s weapons carefully arranged throughout it.

In all essence, it was a panic room.

Reese turned to face Finch and handed him the rapidly cooling tea. “This is all well and good, Finch, but what am I supposed to do if I need these weapons in a hurry?”

Finch took a drink before responding. “After you carelessly left your gun in the kitchen at your apartment, I decided that I should keep at least one readily accessible weapon in each room here,” he said. He took another sip and headed back towards the living room before continuing. “If you hadn’t left the gun on the counter, Mr. Reese, I think it is safe to say we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Harold sat down on one of the expensive sofas and placed his elbow on the arm of it. He rested his chin on his hand and stared absently across the room.

Reese approached and sat next to him, setting his mug on the coffee table. “Harold, you need to let it go. You can’t go back and change what happened.” He paused and chose his next words carefully. “You carry around so much guilt, Finch. It’s not good for you.”

“I should have killed her,” Harold whispered.

John turned towards him and rested a firm hand on Finch’s knee. “No,” he rasped, “You’re not a killer. Don’t let her make you into one.”

Finch gave him a brief nod as Bear trotted over and rested his head on Harold’s other knee with a whine. He reached down and scratched the canine’s ears to ease his anxiety.

Reese slowly retracted his hand and got up to check the room for the spare weapons mentioned before. Harold dully noticed the sudden absence of warmth from the other man’s hand and looked at Bear in dismay as he also got up to eagerly follow Reese around the loft.

He got up a few moments later and took his now empty tea cup back to the kitchen along with Reese’s coffee mug before heading to the bedroom.

Finch paused in the doorway when he saw Reese lounging on the bed with Bear lying happily next to him, sprawled out and wagging his tail. John was rubbing the dog’s belly with a hint of a smile on his face.

“I don’t normally let Bear on the furniture, Mr. Reese,” he said dryly.

Reese ran his hands along the covers and gave him a lazy grin. “These feel like pretty expensive sheets, Finch. You probably shouldn’t let me on them, either.”

Harold gave him a look of amused annoyance and stepped closer to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. John sat up and ran a hand slowly along Harold’s sideburn. “Feeling less guilty now?”

Finch frowned. “Not really, though I’m not sure ‘guilt’ is the appropriate term.”

“No? Sure seemed like it to me…” he drawled. He kissed Finch’s jaw before continuing. “You won’t be able to save everyone, Harold. You need to accept it and…” he trailed off as he ran his hands up Finch’s back.

“Accept it and what, Mr. Reese?” the billionaire huffed.

“Relax.”

He let out a small sigh and John nudged their mouths together.

Bear gave them an unimpressed look and jumped down to go back to his own bed in the living room.

Finch wrapped his arms around Reese as the taller man kissed him slowly and deeply. They both let out an annoyed groan as Harold’s phone vibrated in his pocket.

He gave his phone an exasperated look before answering. “Yes, Detective?”

He listened with a frown before turning on the speaker and setting the phone next to him.

_“You know that hot crazy lady I arrested last week? Well, she’s dead.”_

Finch looked at Reese and they shared a look of surprise. “You sure, Fusco?” Reese asked.

_“Wonderboy? I thought I called…never mind. Anyway, we put her in a cell with someone just as crazy and she ripped, what’dya call her, Root, apart. Like, literally ripped her apart with her teeth. Pretty sure there was some heavy-duty torture going on before that though, but either way, it was one nasty mess_."

Finch made face of disgust. “That sounds like one bad decision after another on the police department’s part. She should have never been put in a cell with someone else.”

_“Yeah, well, it got the job done, didn’t it? It’s not like we knew the other one was a cannibal. No more beautiful crazy lady for you to deal with, though.”_ Fusco rustled some papers on the other end of the phone. _“Oh, and Wonderboy can move back into his apartment. We finally got that situation sorted out.”_

John raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think that will be necessary, but thanks, Lionel.”

_“What!? I went to all that trouble to make sure you’d get to move back in, and now you’re not even gonna bother? I swear, a little respect every once in a while would be nice. I put in a lot of extra time for you two!”_

Reese’s lips twitched upward and he leaned forward to kiss Finch again.

_“Hey, what the hell? Are you two…Jesus, I could’ve called you back!”_ He let out a dismayed sigh. _“If anything else happens, I’ll let you know. And next time, don’t put me on speakerphone! Not that you’re listening anyway.”_

Finch reached over and promptly ended the call.

“Well, that takes care of that problem, wouldn’t you say?” Reese murmured as he trailed his fingers along Finch’s face.

“Yes, Mr. Reese, that takes care of that.” Harold kissed him again and Reese carelessly tossed the phone to the other side of the room.

"If he calls again, I'm shooting out his kneecaps."

Finch thought about objecting.

He didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be a oneshot, but I gave it a go and tried to write another chapter since a few people requested it. Hopefully it isn't too disappointing?

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first POI story, so hopefully it wasn't too terrible? Let me know what you guys think!


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